Out of the Lion's Den
by Hewylewis
Summary: During World War II, two humans escape to Africa in hopes of losing the Axis. How will they react when they meet a certain royal family? Cowritten by Guardian Panthera. Chapter 1 is up. Please Read and Review.
1. Prologue

Berlin, Germany October 7th 1941

"Anschlag!" shouted a German officer at man running down an abandoned street.

"Anschlag!" the officer repeated.

'Like hell I will,' thought the man, 'just so you can throw me in one of those damned labor camps? Sorry I chose life.'

"Töten Sie ihn! Feuer öffnen!" shouted the officer.

The man dived for cover as the firing squad behind him open up with their MP40's, yep, it was just a normal day in the life of Peter Sahaog.

Peter reached for his own weapon, a stolen smoke grenade from a knocked out German foot soldier now stuffed into a locker some where in the German intelligence building he had just escaped from.

"Catch" shouted Peter as he threw the smoke grenade down the street seconds later he was rewarded by the coughs of several Germans.

'That should keep them busy for a while' thought Peter a he hopped a fence into a back alley. About four blocks later he stopped running wild cheering could be heard not to far off. 'Better change' thought Peter as he knocked over a trash can to revel a German foot soldier uniform. 'I hope this works' he thought as he picked up a rifle and straitened the cap.

At the moment a prep rally was being held in one of the town squares. Supposedly Hitler himself was to be arriving give a morale speech to the people of Berlin, and that meant huge crowds, let's see them find him in there.

A short time later Peter arrived it look like the speech was over. The people were chanting "Heil Hitler! Heil Hitler,"

As much as He would have love to try and take out Hitler with his rifle the Polish resistance hadn't given him any ammo. For them even one bullet was a precious as gold, the gun was just for show.

'Please tell me they got the motorcycle,' he thought nervously If it wasn't there then there would be no way to get on the airfield in time. There Brian was waiting in a Heinkel He 111, a German bomber they needed for it's ability to fly long range without refuel.

If the motorcycle wasn't there then there would be no way for him to get to the air field in time. He was already running late due to his little fiasco with the SS, if he didn't show up by the deadline Brian was to assume him dead and leave him there in the middle of the lion's den, with no chance of rescue.

Peter turned the corner, and there it was.

"Thank the lord" Peter breathed out with a sigh of relief as he walked up to the motorcycle and ran his hand over the rear tire and set of keys fell to the ground.

He picked up the keys then mounted the bike, and turned the key. The engine roared to life as he drove off.

About fifteen minutes later Peter arrived at the airfield where sure enough Brian was waiting in the bomber.

"What took you," asked Brian with a grin.

"Ran into an old friend, 'Captain' Glodenstraat"

"So he's a Captain now? I thought he was dead..."

"Well he's not, and trust me the man holds a grudge"

"Well, we'd better be going," said Brian eager to get off the ground.

"Well, then let's go" and with last comment that they both boarded the bomber. Unaware of the journey they were about to embark.


	2. Chapter 1

"So, where are we now?" asked Pete for about the hundredth time. They had been in flight for about three hours now sense they had escaped from Germany, disguised in their commandeered Heinkel He 111.

"Aren't you at all tired?" asked Brain rather annoyed at Peter's prescience in always wanting to know what was going on.

"No," lied Peter.

"You should seriously get some sleep, you look like hell"

"Just tell me where we are," Peter shot back.

"Somewhere over Italy," replied Brian, "our ETA to Tunis is in about two hours, assuming the Luftwaffe don't spot us that is."

'Great,' thought Peter, the Luftwaffe was Germany's elite air force, If they somehow managed to find them then they would be in it deep. However, Brian was an ex-United States army air core pilot. Ever since his leave he flew commercial air craft. But that didn't mean he could hold his own in a dog fight, but even a pilot as good a himself would never win against a fighter in a bomber, let alone an entire squadron.

"Once we refuel we'll head for the British forces in Palestine," said Brian updating Peter on the game plan, "till then just sit back and enjoy the view, were coming over the Mediterranean now"

Peter let his gaze fall to the cockpit window and over the land far below and even he had to admit, it looked pretty darn cool. Peter let his mind wander as he slowly lost touch with realty and fell asleep...

"Works every time" said Brain to himself.

About after one hour and fifty minutes later Brain shook Peter awake, the African coast line was fast approaching.

"Hey Pete," spoke Brian, "wake up were landing."

Peter woke up a little groggy.

"Huh, what?"

"We need to refuel" said Brian.

"Oh right," Peter stretched his tired muscles, He was look forward to getting out of the cockpit to walk abound a bit when they landed. 'Oh yeah, we need to request clearance,' thought while his mind was on the topic.

"I'll request clearance?" asked Peter with some weariness in his voice.

"Go ahead," said Brian handing him the radio.

Peter took it, taking a moment to clear his voice spoke into the radio in a perfect German accent, "Tower dieses ist „der goldene Adler", der um Erlaubnis bittet, rüber zu landen"

Which of course translated into, "Tower this is 'Golden Eagle' requesting permission to land, over"

There was a sight pause in which both Brian and Peter held their breaths, but sure enough a static voice came in over the radio, "Erlaubnis bewilligte"

Both Brian and Peter sighed out in relief, Permission granted.

"Bestätigt," Peter acknowledged.

About now they over the city of Tunis, the air field was up ahead

"Lowering wheels" said Brian out loud as he did a quick check of the aircraft's meters.

They gradually began to descend until they had finally touched down on the runway. After a short distance the plane came to a rest on the ground.

"Welcome to Tunis," said Brian to no one in particular as he open up the cockpit and stepped out.

"Well, we've landed"

"Good," said Peter stepping out of the plane, "how long till were refueled?"

"Half an hour at the most" replied Brian.

"The sooner the better, I've got a bad felling about this..."

"You worry too much," reassured Brian.

Meanwhile up in the tower, radio tower controller, Lucas Nylund, was sitting at his post as usual. 'Maybe I can get a few hour sleep in,' he thought hopefully. He had been working nonstop for the last nine hours clearing bombers for landing and take off.

However those hope were quickly cut short as a radio transmission came in over the radio. 'Damn it,' he thought angrily, 'Just as I get a moments' peac-'

Lucas stopped all he thoughts as he adjusted the radio, The incoming transmission was coming from Berlin. 'This must be important,' he thought as he patched the transmission through.

"Dieses ist Kapitän glodenstraat, ist jedermann dort? hereingekommen!"

(This is captain glodenstraat, is anyone there? Come in!)

"Copy, daß Kapitän glodenstraat dieses Tunis Flughafen-Kontrollturm ist," Lucas replied.

(Copy that, captain glodenstraat this is Tunis air base control tower)

"Ich habe Reports von zwei Flüchtlingen, ein Poliermittel und ein Amerikaner, haben commendered ein deutsches Flugzeug. sie können in Tunis gelandet sein" said said Captain Glodenstraat over the radio.

(I have reports of two fugitives, one Polish and one american, have commandeered an german aircraft. they may have landed in Tunis.)

Lucas sat up a little straighter, 'Commandeered a German aircraft? Nonsense', he thought. But he decided he'd better check and see anyway.

"Kopieren daß, was ihr Rufzeichen ist?"

(Copy that, what is their call sign?)

"Goldener Adler!" shouted Captain Glodenstraat, "Wiederholung, Goldener Adler!"

(golden eagle, repeat, golden eagle!)

Lucas nearly fell out of his chair, He had cleared that aircraft to land not more then half an hour ago!

Lucas was about to raise the alarm when a voice came in over the ground radio, further confirming what he had just heard.

"Eindringlinge auf Unterseite! Wiederholung, Eindringlinge auf der Unterseite, ihrer innen ein Heinkel He 111, Rufzeichen „Goldener Adler!"

(Intruders on base! repeat, Intruders on base, their in a Heinkel He 111, call sign 'golden eagle')

Lucas flipped the alarm sending a wail that could be heard all around the base and shouted into the P.A.

"Sicherheit Bruch!"

(security breach)

Peter didn't like this at all. Even with Brian's reassuring him that they would be just fine he still found their current situation unnerving.

First off he had broken into a German Intelligence Building and stolen high classified enemy documents.

Then he and Brian had decommissioned an entire bomber's crew and commandeered their bomber.

Lastly, he was a Polish Jew in the middle of a Nazi air base, sounded by hundreds of Aryan Germans. Not to mention those swastikas were everywhere. They were on the planes, the buildings, the runway, their uniforms... Hell, even he was wearing one of them.

He wish he didn't have to though, it reminded him of living in the ghettos, his parents were killed by the Nazis about three years ago, ever since then he always felt uncomfortable around them.

Peter cut his thought short, he had just noticed one of the refuel people looking at him weird.

"Was betrachten die Hölle du," growled Peter sending the young man running off, thinking about his past always put him in a bad mood...

(What the hell are you looking at?)

Were done refueling le--," started Brian before he was cut of by the shriek of the on base alarm.

"What the?"

"Sicherheit Bruch! Sicherheit Bruch, shouted a man over the base PA.

"I think they found us," said Peter.

Almost as soon as those words left Peter's mouth two trucks loaded with troop headed their direction.

"Oh hell, I'll get the engine started" shouted Brian as he ran up the latter and into the cockpit,

"Keep them off me while I start the engines!" he commanded throwing Peter a Thomson Sub Machine gun.

"Hurry up!" Peter called back.

As the trucks grinned to a halt the German began to pour out of their transport, at least they would have if Peter hadn't opened up on them.

"Back off!" Peter cried out as he poured lead onto the Germans from the cover of a nearby crate.

"How are you doing in there Brian?" Peter asked as he ducked behind the crate to reload and avoid the in coming fire.

"I'm doing just peachy! Why do you ask?" Brian snapped back fighting to get the plane up and running.

"Because you know what? Now would be a very good time to leave!" Peter answered back.

Just then a grenade fell behind the crate into his position, reacting quickly he grabbed the stick like frag, and promptly threw it back and was rewarded by the explosion that followed and a voice cried out in anguish. Whether he had killed the man who had shouted out or simply wounded him, Peter couldn't be sure.

"I got it," shouted Brian in triumph as the twin engines roared to life, "let's go!"

"About time!" Peter yelled out as he ran out from the crate and flew up the latter into the cockpit. Bullets chasing him up the whole way.

"That was close" said Brian sweat dripping off his head.

"We're not out of this yet get us up in the air!" shouted Peter.

"Don't tell me how to fly the damn plane!" Brian yelled back as he lined up for take off.

"Here we go!" he cried out and he gunned the engines.

Seconds later they were off of the havoc taking place on the ground beneath them. From above it look as if someone had kicked over an ant hill. As several Germans took pot shots at them, but far out of their range by now.

Peter turned to Brian and grinned, "Looks like were home fr--" suddenly a violent explosion shook the plane.

"What the hell?" shouted Brian as he quickly stabilized the plane.

Peter took a swift glance through the windows in to the ground below.

"Damn it, there firing back at us! There are Anti-aircraft batteries covering the coast line, and the East and west sides of the base, get us the hell out of here Brian!"

"Wait," said Brian realize something, "we've got to damage the air strip so they can't follow us!"

"Do it!" said Peter

Brian quickly line them up for a pass more explosion rocking the bomber, they would only have one at this...

"Adjusting yaw...," spoke Brian nervously, "lowering attitude... Bombs away!"

Underneath the belly over the plane a panel opened up dropping their entire payload onto the base, seconds later tens of explosions blossomed along the ground, tarring apart the airstrip.

"Direct hit!" Peter shouted out loud with glee, "Now let's head south until things cool down we may be able to lose them that way!"

"Roger that," said Brian as he adjusted their path of flight south, into the heart of Africa.

About six hours later Peter and Brian were traveling over the vast desert sands of the Sahara Desert.

"Wow, so this must the Sahara, man is it hot," Brian said gaze in awe of the scene.

"Never thought it was so big."

"Yeah it would suck to have to walk across that..." Peter said when a thought crossed his mind, "Say Brian how much gas do we have left?

"Plenty We've only been up six hours"

"Well, check and make sure that the heat isn't affecting any of our instruments," said Peter, just a little concerned.

Okay, let's see," Brian started, " air pressure...check, altitude...check, fuel..."

Brian suddenly froze the fuel was reading at 0. 'No, that can't be right,' Brian reasoned, it just couldn't. Maybe the gauge failed to go back up when they refueled. He gave the gauge a tap, nothing. He hit the gauge harder, still nothing...

"Umm, Peter"

"Yeah?"

"About the fuel" but Brian needn't to have said anything more, just a that moment both Propellers sputter, and die.

Peter and Brian both turn to face each other, the color draining from both their faces.

"That hit we took..." said Peter weakly.

"Oh yeah, were screwed," finished Brian.

Both were snapped back to realty as the plane suddenly began to descend rapidly.

"Quick, we don't have much time! Get us to the ground before we lose any more speed!"

"Ok, but it's going to be rough!" said Brian as he pushed down on the stick, sending them into a rapid dive.

This was a maneuver every pilot hoped they would never have to execute. In the event that a plane runs out of fuel an aircraft is three options. One, If the aircraft is light enough you can glide it to a safe land zone, assuming you can find a place to land. Two, ditch the aircraft and parachute to safety. Three, for heavier aircraft execute a steep dive and level out close to the ground, and pray for a soft landing.

Brian had only one option.

"Hang on! This is gonna get bumpy!" as he began to pull out of the dive, The instruments were going haywire, The alarm was blaring.

"Were coming in too steep!" Brian shouted they were only seconds from the ground now.

"Brace for impac--" right at that moment they collided with the ground, hard.

The German bomber smashed into the ground kicking up a ton of debris, and slid a few hundred feet before finally coming to a dead stop.


End file.
